I Went To A Party, Mom
by My Quiet Riot
Summary: 'But because he chose to drink and drive, it's me who has to die.' Drunk driving awareness and prevention. One-shot, told from the perspective of Mal and Nat's daughter. Rated 'T' for mild language, minor gore, and serious topics.


**Hello, Deathicated! I'm working on _Beginning Again_, too; but I heard this poem the other day, and I really wanted to write a one-shot about it. It's a serious poem, and I hope it raises some awareness. The poem is called _I Went To A Party, Mom_, and I believe it is by Mike Orman; that's what I found online, anyways. The poem is about drinking and driving, and the affects it can have. It's told from a girl's perspective, speaking 'to' her mother. It will be told from the perspective of Mal and Natara's daughter, which I have made up for purposes of this story. It has nothing to do with any of my other stories, either. I'll write more about the subject at the end, after you've read this; but for now, I hope you enjoy and get something out of it. (:**

**Also, warning: It's really long for a one-shot. **

* * *

_Hi, there._

_My name is Emma Fallon. I'm seventeen years old, and I'm a junior in high school. _

_My parents' names are Mal and Natara Fallon._

_I have a younger sister named Sarah, and a dog named Henry._

_My best friend's name is Rachel; we've been friends since middle school._

_Oh, and one more thing about me? _

_I'm dead._

_Kind of a sadistic bomber after the best friend and family thing, huh? _

_Sorry. I have a weird sense of humor; I always have._

_But humor aside, that's how it goes. Sometimes that's how quickly it happens; talking to your friends one minute, dying on the pavement the next._

_Though I can't directly talk to anyone on earth anymore, I wanted to share my story; maybe it will stop you or someone else from making the same mistake someone made, that ended up costing me and thousands of others our lives._

* * *

"Remember, you can always call if you need anything," my mom reminded me as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door, excited to get on my way to a party.

"I know," I answered with a sigh.

"I want you home by midnight," she repeated for the tenth time.

"Okay," I said impatiently, shuffling through my purse for my keys.

"I love you!" she called, kissing me on the cheek as I pulled the keys from my bag.

"Love you, too," I replied with a smile as I headed out the door.

"Oh, and Emma?" she called from the doorway, leaning against the door frame. I turned around and looked back expectantly.

"Yeah?" I asked restlessly.

"Please don't drink," she said.

"I won't," I promised with a smile.

"Have a good time," she called, flashing me one last smile and closing the door.

Finally free of my mother's reminders, I excitedly bounded to my car. Just as I climbed in and was about to start the car, my phone buzzed in my hand. I slid it unlocked to reveal a text from my best friend, Rachel.

**(1) **new text from** Rachel Moore  
**_'hey, r u coming? elliot is here, and he's looking 4 u!'_

I quickly typed a reply, keeping in mind my mother's warnings of not texting while driving.

New text to **Rachel Moore  
**'_yeah, i'm coming! i'm about to drive right now tho, so i gtg. see ya soon!'_

After I sent the text, I silenced my phone, returned it to my purse, and tossed the bag in the passenger's seat. I turned the keys to start the ignition, then flipped the radio on to my favorite station. Soon enough, I pulled up outside of Rachel's house, where the party was at. Her parents were out for the weekend, and allowed her to have a 'small party'. From the looks and sounds of it, though, it definitely wasn't a small party. It was only eight at night, but already music with a heavy bass beat seeped through the closed doors and windows of Rachel's house. I grabbed my purse from the passenger's seat before getting out of the car. I gently closed the door, careful to keep the shimmery purple fabric of my dress from becoming lodged in between the metal. I pressed down on the lock button and waited a moment until it beeped twice, signifying that the doors had locked. Satisfied, I proceeded up the front steps. I didn't even knock as I pushed the door open, immediately greeted by at least a dozen unfamiliar faces. I looked around for Rachel, politely excusing myself as I squeezed between other kids. I finally found her in the kitchen talking to a guy I didn't know. Before I could call out, she turned, saw me, and immediately ran up to greet me.

"Hey, Em!" she greeted as she gave me big hug. I happily hugged her back, returning the greeting with a smile. "You look really pretty!" she commented, taking a moment to look me up and down. She reached out and lightly tugged on several strands of my dark brown hair which I had so carefully curled. I looked at her, too, taking in her light blue dress and perfectly straight, jet-black hair.

"Thanks," I said with a smile. "So do you, I love your dress!"

"Thank you!" she replied with a happy smile. "Now come on, Elliot is in the other room." Elliot was a guy in my Forensics class who I sat with nearly every day. I'd only met him this year, but we became fast friends. I secretly had a crush on him, but I didn't know if he knew that.

Before I could protest, Rachel had grabbed me by the arm and was dragging me towards the admittedly-hot blue-eyed-blond. He stood leaning against the wall with a group of his friends. I could hear them loudly joking, and he laughed at something a tall brunette boy said. He glanced up and saw me, and immediately did a double-take. He stood from the wall and went to meet me. I heard a couple of his friends whistle suggestive cat calls as he walked towards me, but he just shrugged them off with a good-natured laugh.

"Hey, Emma," he greeted with a friendly smile, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was totally checking me out. "You look gorgeous."

"Hey!" I said cheerfully, cheeks suddenly turning red. I hoped the dim lighting hid the blush that had crept to my cheeks, though, as I greeted him with a hug. "Thank you." I glanced over my shoulder to see where Rachel was, but she had disappeared. I turned around and she had somehow appeared in front of me, chatting loudly with another guy I didn't know.

_I went to a party, Mom,_  
_And I remembered what you said._  
_You told me not to drink,_  
_So I had a Sprite instead._

"Hey, do you want something to drink?" Elliot asked me. Though I knew he meant alcohol, I remembered my mother's warning about not drinking. The stuff didn't look or smell very appealing, anyways.

"No thanks," I declined with a polite smile. "I'll just get a pop or something instead."

"Okay," he shrugged. "You're missing out." I laughed as we both turned to the kitchen counter. He quickly busied himself with pouring a beer, while I rummaged around in the fridge for something non-alcoholic. I finally found a can of Sprite, and extracted it from the fridge. Instead of walking around with a can of Sprite, I popped the can open and poured the contents into a red plastic cup; it looked less childish that way. As I dropped a few ice cubes in it, Elliot tapped me on the shoulder.

"I'm gonna go play some beer pong with the guys," he announced. "You wanna play?"

I shook my head. "No thanks, but I'll watch."

"Okay," he agreed, grabbing my arm and leading me into the next room. I was immediately greeted by the strong stench of beer, and I nearly gagged at the smell of it. I quickly recovered, though, taking several sips of my Sprite as Elliot crossed the room and joined a group of guys. I looked around for someone I knew, and quickly spotted my friend, Samantha. I walked up to her and lightly flicked her long, blond ponytail in greeting.

"Oh, hey, Em!" she greeted as she turned around. "Lookin' good."

"Hey, Sam! Thanks," I smiled.

We exchanged some idle chatter before turning to watch the guys play beer pong. Throughout the game, we loudly laughed and joked with the guys playing; some were good, and some were really bad. Elliot turned out to be pretty good; he only had to drink once. James, Samantha's boyfriend, on the other hand, was exceptionally bad; the cups weren't even half gone before he was obviously drunk.

"Wow, you suck!" Sam called jokingly to him. He laughed and rolled his eyes, but continued to attempt landing the ball in a plastic cup.

"How about _you _try this?" James invited after a few more attempts.

"No thanks," she laughed, finishing off whatever was in her cup. "I'm good with my Pepsi; I have to drive you home, remember?"

After a couple more shots, they had finished their game. James stumbled back towards Sam, but fell over against a wall before he got there. She sighed loudly, setting down her Pepsi.

"I told him not to do this again," she muttered, half to herself and half to me. I laughed lightly, but quickly stepped over him and helped Sam prop him up against the wall.

_I felt proud of myself,_  
_The way you said I would,_  
_That I didn't drink and drive,_  
_Though some friends said I should._

I couldn't help but feel proud that I hadn't chosen to drink. It was tempting sometimes, but I didn't want to let my mom down. Plus, she was a cop; it would technically be her job to arrest me. Sam and I both stepped around him again, turning back to the kitchen to leave him to his own passed-out devices. We both grabbed another can of pop, cracking them open and pouring them into cups. We chatted a bit longer before Sam excused herself to check on her boyfriend, sarcastically muttering about 'being James' mother'. I laughed, stepping aside to let her go. Now by myself, I silently looked around for Elliot or Rachel. I spotted Rachel across the room, and was about to make my way towards her, when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.

"Hey there," Elliot cooed in my ear. "Thought you ditched me there." I laughed and turned around to meet Elliot's eyes. Though he had had a beer and at least one shot already, he was barely showing signs of intoxication at all.

"Wanna get some fresh air?" he asked, motioning towards the expansive deck outside the patio doors.

"Sure," I agreed, smiling as he took my arm and led me outside. We sat down opposite each other at a table on the deck, and spent most of the rest of the night talking about anything and everything.

_I made a healthy choice,_  
_And your advice to me was right;_  
_And as the party finally ended,_  
_All the kids drove out of sight._

As our conversation began to die down and it became more and more obvious that he was drunk, I remembered my curfew. I immediately pulled out my phone, sighing in relief to see that I still had a little more than a half an hour before midnight. I figured I should get going, though; leave before all the drunk idiots started driving.

"I should probably get going," I announced as I stood from my chair. "I'm supposed to be in by midnight."

"So am I," Elliot sighed. "What time is it?"

"Eleven-twenty-seven," I relayed, checking my phone again. He quietly cursed under his breath.

"Dammit, I really gotta go," he muttered urgently. "I live half an hour away, and if I miss curfew one more time, I'm grounded for a month." I nodded as we both walked back inside.

"Do you have a sober ride home?" I asked, suddenly remembering that he was very drunk.

"Nah, I'll be fine," he dismissed. "I've done it plenty of times before."

"No, you shouldn't drive while you're drunk," I protested, reaching for my keys. "I'll drive you."

He shook his head. "Nah, I said I'm good. Wouldn't want you to miss curfew. I'm fine, I promise."

"Alright," I sighed reluctantly. "I'll see you later."

"See ya!" he smiled, waving as he quickly hustled out the door. I quickly went to say good-bye to Rachel, Sam, and several others, before making my way to the front door. A crowd of people began to leave, too, slowly migrating to the door and drunkenly grabbing random jackets. I nearly tripped over several kids who were passed out on the carpet, narrowly missing falling flat on my face myself. I checked my phone again, once again relieved to see that I still had twenty minutes to get home; I only lived ten minutes away.

_I got into my car,_  
_Sure to get home in one piece._  
_I never knew what was coming, Mom;_  
_Something I expected least._

I emerged into the cool night air, trying to find my way to my car in the dark night. I pushed the unlock button on the key remote, finally locating my car from the couple flashes of light the car produced from the unlocking.

As I climbed into my car, I didn't have a doubt in my mind that I'd get home safely. In fact, the possibility of what happened next never even occurred to me. I consciously chose to not drink and drive; I'd be fine, right?

_I started to drive away,_  
_But as I pulled into the road,_  
_The other car didn't see me, Mom,_  
_And hit me like a load._

Carefully checking behind me several times, I slowly pulled out of the driveway and began to drive slowly down the street. I hated driving at night, but thankfully my headlights illuminated far enough ahead for me to feel fairly safe.

I'm not entirely sure what happened after that, but all I remember was seeing two bright, white lights rapidly approach me, swerve several times, and impact my car with a deafening crash. I screamed loudly as glass shattered and pain exploded in multiple places. I felt blood begin to pour from various cuts and wounds, and I suddenly couldn't feel my right leg. The pain was too much, and I blacked out.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes later that I awoke again. I saw red and blue flashing around me, and sirens screeched harshly in the distance.

A man whom I assumed to be a policeman ran up to me, kneeling by my side and asking me my name.

"E-Emma," I finally managed after several painful, raspy attempts.

"Were you at that party a few houses down?" he asked gently. I nodded. "Were you drinking at all?"

I quickly shook my head. "No, I don't drink," I managed in a raspy voice.

"Okay, Emma," he said softly but urgently. "We're going to try to get you out of here, okay?"

I weakly nodded, suppressing a groan of pain. I tried hard to stay awake, but I must have blacked out again.

_Now I'm lying on the pavement,_  
_And I hear the policeman say,_  
_"The kid that caused this wreck was drunk."_  
_Mom, his voice seems far away._

I awoke again God-only-knows how long later. This time I was lying on my back on the cold pavement. Police and paramedics rushed around, and one came and knelt by my side again.

"The kid that caused this wreck was drunk," he said gently. I feebly grunted in surprise; if he or she was drunk, they probably came from the same place I was at. Why they were going that direction, I wasn't sure; but the police quickly answered that for me before I had a chance to ask.

"He said he had just left but realized he forgot his jacket and hat, so he tried to drive back; but he ran up a curb, over-corrected, and crashed into you."

_My own blood's all around me._  
_As I try hard not to cry,_  
_I can hear the paramedics say,_  
_"This girl is going to die."_

I nodded again, whimpering in pain. I felt the pool of my own blood expanding around me, and an excruciating pain in my ribs. I was sure at least half of them were fractured, if not completely broken. I shakily touched the spot where it hurt with my hand, felt a large shard of glass embedded in my flesh, and withdrew back a hand dripping with fresh blood- _my _blood.

As another paramedic stood from examining me, she quietly murmured to an officer.

"This girl is going to die," she murmured gravely. Whether she meant for me to hear that or not, I wasn't sure; nevertheless, I had heard it. Though I probably should have intuitively come to that conclusion already, the realization of it all suddenly came crashing down. A lump grew in my throat as I involuntarily let out a shaky sob, biting back tears that threatened to spill. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the car of whoever had hit me. It was partially wrecked, though from what I could see, not as bad as mine. I slowly turned my head towards the other car, wincing at a severe pain in my neck. Shock hit me as I watched an officer lead a handcuffed Elliot from the partially-crushed driver's seat. From what I could see, he had several cuts in his head and blood trickled down his neck; but he was walking, which was quite a few steps ahead of me, pardon the twisted pun.

_I'm sure the guy had no idea,_  
_While he was flying high;_  
_But because he chose to drink and drive,_  
_It's me who has to die._

Though I had been flirting and laughing with him less than half an hour ago, I was suddenly filled with a burning anger towards him. When he saw me, his eyes grew wide and he instantly started fighting against the policeman's grip.

"Let me go, dammit!" he yelled, pushing and shoving in an attempt to free himself. "Oh my God, oh my God, I'm so sorry, Em. Dammit! What the hell have I done? Let me go, you damn bastards! Let me go!" I watched in silent satisfaction as another officer shoved him up against the good side of his car. His cuffs slammed into the metal, leaving a small dent in the side.

"You have the right to remain silent!" the officer seethed. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in court." He was still calling my name as he was shoved into the back of a police cab.

I'm sure Elliot had no idea of what was to come because of his stupid decision; but because he chose to drive while drunk, I had to pay the consequences. My only consolation was getting the satisfaction of knowing that he felt guilty. That sounded horrible, but I couldn't help it.

_So why do people do it, Mom,_  
_Knowing that it ruins lives?_  
_Now the pain is cutting me,_  
_Like a hundred stabbing knives._

I was suddenly filled with rage again. Why did people choose to do that? Why did _he _choose to do that? He took driver's education; he should know how dangerous it is to drink and drive, or drive distracted in general. I distantly heard footsteps rapidly approaching me, and I looked up to see a familiar-looking blond woman and dark-haired man. I recognized them as two of my parents' co-workers.

"Oh my God," the blond exclaimed in horror, kneeling down next to me in the quickly-expanding pool of blood. The brunette man followed close behind, kneeling beside her. I blinked several times, trying hard to recall their names.

"Do you remember us, Emma?" the man asked. "We work with your parents. I'm Jeremy, and that's Blaise." I nodded several times and managed a weak 'yes'. Ah, right; Jeremy and Blaise. I definitely remembered them. I heard another policeman call Jeremy's name, and he quickly stood to go talk to him, leaving me alone with Blaise.

My vision started to blur a little, and I knew I didn't have much longer. The only thing I wanted was to see my mom and dad one last time. Since it was becoming increasingly apparent that it wasn't going to happen, I did the best I could.

_Tell sister not to be afraid;_  
_Tell daddy to be brave;_  
_And when I go to Heaven,_  
_Put "Mommy's Girl" on my grave._

"B-Blaise?" I stammered, feeling my strength leaving me. Even speaking a couple words felt like it drained so much energy.

"Yes?" she answered softly.

"Can y-you... write something to my parents for me?" I asked.

"Of course," she murmured tearfully. She frantically glanced around for something to write with, before I remembered the pen and mini-notebook I always kept in my purse. I struggled to turn my head and look up, relieved to see my purse still intact, dangling from the open car door. I didn't know how much more I could talk, so I just pointed towards the bag. Blaise nodded and quickly yanked the bag from where it stuck in between crushed metal. She quickly found the pen and notebook, flipped to an open page, and looked down at me.

"Go ahead," she prompted gently. Though I wished I could write it myself, I could barely move my arm, let alone pick up a pen and write. Left with no choice but to try speaking while Blaise wrote, I began.

"Mom and Dad," I started out loud, wincing in pain. "I'm s-sorry I have to leave like this, but I just... I didn't see him coming. I remembered what you said, mom; not to drink and drive. B-but I guess... sometimes your own choices aren't enough." I paused to allow Blaise time to catch up.

She nodded, and I continued.

"I didn't drink, mom and dad; I promise. Just... someone else didn't make that choice. Maybe he wasn't taught that; I don't know. But... but if he'd been more careful, I probably wouldn't be lying on the pavement right now."As my vision started fading a little more, I knew I had to finish up; I had a couple minutes, tops.

"I don't have a lot of time left, so I'll finish up, but... mom, dad... I love you both so much. I'm sorry. Tell Sarah not to be scared, and that I love her, too. And daddy... be brave, okay?" I coughed, and the coppery taste of fresh blood filled my mouth.

"Mom, dad, and Sarah... I love all of you so much, and again, I'm sorry it had to be like this. I wish I could say goodbye in person, but-" I coughed again, and pain seared through my broken ribs. I let out a painful whimper, fighting hard not to cry. Blaise bit her lip sympathetically, eyes glistening with tears. "-this is the best I can do. So I love you, and goodbye. Love, Emma." Blaise finished up writing for a few moments after I stopped. Upon finishing, she gently tore the piece of paper from the notebook, folded it up, and carefully stuck it in her pocket.

"I'll make sure they get it," she promised. "You have my word."

"Thank you," I breathed in feeble relief. Blaise just nodded, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Dammit," she muttered shakily, brushing strands of sticky hair away from my voice.

_Someone should have taught him,_  
_That it's wrong to drink and drive;_  
_Maybe if his parents had,_  
_I'd still be alive._

I silently wished that someone would have taught Elliot about the true dangers of drinking and driving. He'd been in driver's education, yeah; but remembering back, he was always in the group at the back of the room playing games on their phones the entire time. I doubted he learned anything. I wasn't even sure how he got his license in the first place; he was a terrible driver, even while sober.

I should have known that. Maybe if I wouldn't warned him more, I'd still... no. No, there was nothing I could have done to change his drunk, cloudy mind. I knew that, but leaving still hurt.

My breath is getting shorter,  
And I'm getting really scared.  
These are my final moments,  
And I'm just so unprepared.

My breath was coming in short, quick gasps, and every series of inhaling and exhaling was weaker than the last. Nearly every part of my body screamed in pain, but I hardly noticed; the emotional pain hurt far worse. I finally let tears slide down my cheeks, fighting against the sobs that wanted to wrack my weak body.

Those were the last few moments of my life, and all I could do was lay there helpless on the cold pavement, swimming in a pool of my own blood. So much was left unsaid for so many people; I wished I could hug Rachel one more time, or give Sarah one last kiss on the cheek.

I wish that you could hold me, Mom,  
As I lie here and die.  
I wish that I could say, "I love you,"  
So I love you and good-bye.

There were so many people I wished I could say one more thing two; just one more thing. But since I was never going to get up again, I did the best I could. With my last weak, dying breath, I murmured my five last words in a voice that was so soft even I could barely hear it. Those last five words were for everyone I loved and cared about that I'd never get to speak to again; my family, friends, and even my dog, Henry.

Seventeen short years of life flashed before my eyes as I took my last shaky breath, and exhaled the words.

"I love you, and good-bye."

With that, my eyes closed, my heart stopped, and I died.

* * *

**Well, as you guys just read, this was about drinking and driving. One thing about it? _Don't do it._ Don't text and drive, either. Both of them are extremely stupid, and distracted driving as a whole is very deadly. In 2010, in the United States alone, over 10,000 people were killed in automobile accidents that were related to drunk driving. That's 10,000 deaths that could have been _very easily prevented_, had people been more careful. That 10,000 doesn't include the thousands of people who were badly injured, stuck to live the rest of their lives in a wheelchair or severely disfigured. You might think you're a good enough driver to drive while drunk, or drive while you text; you might think all those videos and pictures of gory accidents caused by distracted driving will never happen to you. A blood-alcohol level of .15 will decrease your awareness and reaction enough to make you 200 times more likely to get into a crash. Depending on your gender and weight, a blood-alcohol level of .15 only takes three or four drinks. The definition of "one drink" is 12 ounces of beer, 5 ounces of wine, or 1.5 ounces of hard liquor. My assumption is that many people drink _way _more than that while out partying with friends and whatnot. But in reality, it only takes one drink for your judgement, awareness, and reaction time to plummet down. As for texting and driving, reading an average text takes your eyes off the road for approximately five seconds; it takes less than that for you to kill yourself and/or others around you. Both drinking and driving and texting and driving can be _easily _prevented. Get a designated driver, or just _don't drink_. Silence the phone and put it down; no text is worth a life or multiple lives. Similarly, no glass of alcohol or night of fun is worth lives. If you for some reason still don't get it and need an example, just go on YouTube and look up 'drunk driving psa' or 'texting while driving psa'. Some of them are gory, but it's reality; some of them are acted out, while others are not. Watch at your own risk, though.  
**

**So in conclusion of that long paragraph: Don't drink and drive, and don't text and drive. Avoid distracted driving. No text or glass of alcohol is worth your life or others' lives. Drive defensively.**


End file.
